"Beware of his thrice-sharpened teeth, Giuseppe! I saw him bite a fair
half-moon out of the iron pipe by the fountain trough this morning!" he
cries.

It is worse than useless now. Not only does the devil's advocate lack
his own halfpenny; but with a swirl of the hand and a cunning jerk at
the side, a stone whizzes after this regardless railer upon honest
giants. Wails and agony follow. It is a dangerous thing to sit in the
scorner's chair, specially when the divinity has the popular acclaim,
with store of sweetmeats and _soldi_ as well.

Most dangerous of all is it to interfere with a god in the making, for
proselytism is hot, and there are divine possibilities.




CHAPTER III

THE STORY OF THE SEVEN DEAD MEN


And the stories! There were many of them. The young faces bent closer as
we told the story of Saint Martin dividing his cloak among the beggars.
Then came our own Cornish giant-killer, adapted for an Italian audience,
dressed to taste in a great brigand hat and a beltful of daggers and
pistols. Blunderbore in the Italian manner was a distinguished success.
It was Henry who told the tales, but yet I think it was I who had the
more abundant praise. For they heard me prompt my Mercurius, and they
saw him appeal to me in a difficulty. Obviously, therefore, Henry was